Paul Thomas Anderson on What Makes a Movie Great | The...
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The
N� Yorker Intervi�
Paul Thomas Anderson
on What Makes a Movie
Great
The director of “Licorice Pizza” discusses his
writing process,
choosing actors, and how you can tell when
you are on a good
�lm set.
By David
Remnick
December 12, 2021
1 of 22
4/30/22, 14:48
Paul Thomas
Anderson on
What Makes a
Movie Great
| The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
2 of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
“It
doesn’t
require
this
kind
of
mythological,
screaming,
chaps-wearing,
bullhorn
thing,”
Anderson
says,
of
what
makes
a �lm
set
work
well.
“It’s
just
about
organization
and
communication.
You
can
have
fun
doing
it
and
be
kind
and
get
it
done.” Photograph
by
Helene
Pambrun
/
Paris
Match
/
Contour
/
Getty
Slowly,
cautiously,
vaccinated
to
the
nines,
we
are
returning
to
some
of
the
basic
pleasures
of
ordinary
life.
A
few
nights
ago,
my
wife
and
I
went
to
our
local
movie
theatre,
a
multiplex
with
huge
screens
and
blaring
sound
systems.
I
love
all
of
it:
the
coming
attractions
for
horror �icks
I’ll
never
see
and
for
spy
�lms
I
wouldn’t
miss;
the
chattering
crowd;
the
Brobdingnagian snacks;
the
adhesive �oors.
Our
choice
for
the
night
was Paul
Thomas
Anderson’s
“Licorice
Pizza,”
a �lm
set
in
the
San
Fernando
Valley
of
the
nineteen-
seventies.
It’s
about
the
strangeness
of
being
young,
the
experience
of
becoming
a
human
being
and
shaping
a
self.
The
fractured
narrative
is
wised-up
and
sly,
but
also
winningly
sincere.
It’s
been
a
long
pandemic,
and
this
was
an
exhilarating
reminder
of
what
joy
is
like.
Anderson
is �fty-one,
and
he
has
been
making
movies
since
he
was
an
adolescent.
He
is
a
Valley
kid,
and
he’s
never
really
left
those
suburban
streets.
His �rst
features—“Hard
Eight”
and
“Boogie
Nights”—came
out
when
he
was
in
his
mid-twenties,
and,
ever
since,
he
has
been
the
sort
of
artist
whose
new
work
is
always
an
event. Philip
Seymour
Hoffman,
Daniel
Day-Lewis,
Tom
Cruise,
Melora
Walters,
Julianne
Moore,
and
Joaquin
Phoenix
are
among
the
veteran
actors
who
have
appeared
in
his
best �lms,
which
include
“Punch-
Drunk
Love,”
“Magnolia,”
“There
Will
Be
Blood,”
“The
Master,”
and
“Phantom
Thread.”
3
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
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Anderson
rarely
speaks
to
reporters.
I
was
reminded
of
that
when
I
got
on
a
Zoom
call
with
him
the
day
after
seeing
his
movie.
His
square
was
not
indicated
by
his
name
but,
rather,
“Mason
&
Dixon,”
a
sign
of
his
admiration
for
the
reclusive
novelist Thomas
Pynchon.
(Anderson
made
a �lm
of
Pynchon’s
novel
“Inherent
Vice.”)
I
spoke
with
Anderson
for
The
New
Yorker
Radio
Hour; our
conversation
has
been
edited
for
length
and
clarity.
He
was
speaking
from
his
home
in
the
Valley.
And,
since
he
has
set
“Boogie
Nights,”
“Magnolia,”
and,
now,
“Licorice
Pizza”
in
that
territory,
I
began
the
conversation
by
asking
him
why
the
place
resonates
so
deeply
for
him.
Ilove
it.
It’s
as
simple
as
that:
it
sort
of
begins
and
ends
there.
I
can
remember
being
a
kid
and
thinking
at
a
certain
point,
probably
in
my
teen-age
years,
I’ve
got
to
get
out
of
here.
“Out
of
here”
being
over
the
hill,
not
in
the
San
Fernando
Valley.
Maybe
that’s
L.A.,
maybe
that’s
New
York,
maybe
that’s
London,
maybe
it’s
Shanghai—whatever
it
is,
I
have
to
get
out
of
here.
But
I’m
one
of
those
people
who
loves
to
get
away
for
twenty-four
hours
and
then
I
start
getting
itchy
and
thinking
about
home.
I
just
want
to
come
back
home.
I’m
one
of
those
homebody-type
people.
I’m
comfortable
here.
My
family’s
here,
my
friends
are
here.
It’s
a
place
I
keep
returning
to.
Whatever
ambition
you
have
to
spread
your
wings,
I
always �nd
myself
returning
here.
4
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
After
London,
when
we
were
making
“Phantom
Thread”—it
was
a
dream
of
mine
to
be
able
to
work
there—but
when
I
got
back
home,
I
was
just
so
thrilled.
The
Valley
is
not
the
prettiest
place
in
the
world,
it’s
not
the
most
cultured
place
in
the
world,
I
understand
that,
but
it’s
home.
When
I
was
a
kid,
I’d
listen
to
late-night
radio
and
watch
late-night
television,
and
everybody
from
California
would
make
jokes
about
the
Valley.
I
didn’t
know
what
that
was.
What
was
the
joke?
What
is
the
Valley
in
a
spiritual
sense
and
in
terms
of
the
landscape
of
your
youth?
It’s
funny—I
wonder
if
Johnny
Carson
might’ve
contributed
to
that
because
he
would
always
say,
“Beautiful
downtown
Burbank!”
It
may
not
be
beautiful.
And
there
is
no
real
downtown.
.
.
.
I
mean,
the
San
Fernando
Valley—what
is
it?
It’s
a �at
space
between
the
San
Gabriel
Mountains
and
the
Santa
Monica
Mountains.
Its
primary
reason
for
existing,
at
one
time,
was
farmland.
And,
famously,
there’s
the
story
from
“Chinatown”
of
how
water
was
diverted
from
the
Valley.
It’s
a
suburb.
And
the
suburbs
seemed
to
always
come
in
for
a
beating.
I’m
not
quite
sure
why.
When
I
was �rst
writing
“Boogie
Nights”
when
I
was
a
teen-
ager,
there
was
a
terri�c
story
in
my
own
back
yard.
I
didn’t
have
to
go
far.
I
didn’t
have
to
make
things
up.
I
could
do
the
research,
learning
more
about
these
people
in
this
industry,
but
it
was
familiar
to
me.
At
some
point,
I
probably
read
that
I
should
“Write
what
you
know.”
That’s
a
good
place
to
start.
This
work
is
hard
enough.
So
why
am
I
struggling
to
try
to
learn
something
that’s
beyond
my
grasp
or
that
doesn’t
speak
to
me?
“Licorice
Pizza”
centers
on
two
characters.
One
is
Gary
Valentine,
played
by
Cooper
Hoffman,
a
teen-age
guy
who
is
incredibly
charismatic
for
his
age.
He’s
a
small-time
actor.
He
starts
a
water-bed
business
and
then
a pinball
palace.
His
patter,
his
bravado,
is
amazing
for
somebody �fteen
years
old.
He
5
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
falls
for
a
girl,
Alana
Kane,
played
by
Alana
Haim.
She’s
much
older
than
he
is.
She’s
in
her
mid-twenties,
with
a
thwarted
life
but
an
inner
intelligence
that’s
also
magnetic.
How
is
that
rooted
in
your
experience?
If
you’re
writing
what
you
know,
what’s
the
germ
of
the
story
of
“Licorice
Pizza”
for
you?
I
was
the
second
of
four
[children],
so
I
had
an
older
sister
and
she
had
older
friends.
She
is
a
good
two,
three,
four
years
older
than
me.
And
a
buddy
of
mine
had
an
older
sister.
So,
we
just
sort
of
happened
to
fall
in
the
cracks
so
that,
when
we
were
fourteen, �fteen,
these
were
girls
that
were
around
us—our
sisters’
friends—were
eighteen,
nineteen.
And
they
had
cars!
So,
every
waking
hour
was
devoted
to
trying
to
get
them
to
drive
us
somewhere!
And
behind
it
was
trying
to �irt
with
them
or
hang
out
with
them
or
get
noticed
by
them
in
some
way
that
was
more
than
just
being
an
irritating
little
brother.
I
can
remember
having
a
couple
of
friendships
with
some
of
those
girls
who
I
met
along
the
way.
They
were
just
friendships,
but
they
were
fantastic.
They
were
fantastic
just
because
they
were
just
friendships,
you
know?
To
have
a
friendship
with
a
just
slightly
older
woman,
who
wasn’t
your
sister—I
had
a
toe
in
a
version
of
the
adult
world
or
what
started
to
feel
adult
just
because
of
the
transportation
that
they
had.
Maybe
the
greatest
assertion
of
power
and
age
difference
in
the
movie
is
not
the
erotic
one
but
the
driving
one.
At
one
point,
Alana
is
driving
not
a
car
but
a
truck,
and
she’s
driving
it
at
one
point
backward
at
full
speed
down
a
hill,
down
into
the
center
of
town.
[Gary
is
her
terri�ed
and
thrilled
passenger.]
This
is
high
drama.
It’s
better
than
Grace
Kelly
driving
at
top
speed
along
a
mountain
road
in
the
South
of
France
with
Cary
Grant.
That
sequence
that
you’re
referring
to
is
a
catchall
for
any
number
of
episodes
that
were
either
that
dangerous
or
slightly
less
dangerous.
And
they
happened
particularly
in
Southern
California
because
it’s
such
a
driving
community.
We
6
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
are
slaves
to
our
cars.
We
love
them.
Especially
at
that
age—your
whole
life
was
dedicated
to
getting
a
car
somehow.
And
the
kind
of
trouble
that
you
found
yourself
in
as
a
result
was
usually
vast;
you
look
back
and
think,
I
cannot
believe
I
made
it
out
alive.
So,
that
sequence
taps
into
those
episodes.
At
the
time,
you
just
think
it
was
just
hilarious
fun,
but
with
a
little
bit
of
distance
you
realize
it
was
really
life-or-death.
We
see
on
the
screen
a
title
card.
And
it
announces
that
this
production
is
by
Ghoulardi
Film
Company
[Anderson’s
production
company].
This
name
is
something
with
incredibly
deep
meaning
for
you
and
your
family,
and
it’s
rooted
at
home,
in
the
San
Fernando
Valley.
My
father—his
name
is
Ernie
Anderson,
and
he
was
originally
from
Boston.
After
the
war,
he
came
back
and
was
a
radio
d.j.
in
Vermont,
and
he
ended
up
in
Cleveland,
Ohio.
He
was
on
the
ground �oor
of
some
television
programming
that
was
happening
there.
He
created
and
was
the
host
of
one
of
those
classic
late-night
horror
shows.
And
his
character’s
name
was
Ghoulardi.
[The
show
ran
on
WJW
on
Friday
nights,
from
1963
to
1966,
and
was
an
in�uence
on
everyone
from
Drew
Carey
to
the
Cramps.]
He
wore
a
fake
Van
Dyke
beard
and
sunglasses
with
one
lens
popped
out.
His
job
was
to
introduce
these
horror �lms
and
show
the
kids
a
good
time.
Ghoulardi
was
an
incredibly
popular
character
locally
in
Cleveland.
[My
father]
eventually
came
to
Southern
California,
to
the
San
Fernando
Valley,
and
worked
as
a
voice-over
announcer
with
ABC,
he
did
lots
of
different
commercials.
He
became
the
booth
announcer
for
“The
Carol
Burnett
Show.”
But
Ghoulardi
always
kind
of
followed
him
around
for
anybody
who
was
in
Cleveland
at
the
time.
The
list
is
surprisingly
long—there
were
amazing
people
who
were
children
in
Ohio
at
the
time,
from
Chrissie
Hynde
to
Jim
Jarmusch.
One
time
I
went
back
to
Cleveland
with
[my
dad]—I
must’ve
been
about
seven
or
eight
years
old—and
we
got
off the
airplane
and
it
wasn’t
two
steps
into
the
7
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
airport
before
he
was
mobbed
by
people
who
recognized
him.
It
was
just
this
incredible
thing
to
see
your
dad,
who
was
not
famous
in
any
way
in
my
life
that
I
had
here
[in
the
Valley]
with
him,
be
this
superstar
of
Cleveland
television.
I’ve
always
thought
of
writing
as
something
that
you
can
do,
or
imagine
yourself
doing,
simply
because
you
have
a
pencil
and
a
piece
of
paper.
It’s
a
great
deal
harder
than
that,
but
you
have
the instruments to
do
it.
You
have
the
self
to
do
it.
And
nothing
else
is
required
other
than,
well,
genius
or
talent.
To
make
movies,
you
can’t
be
St.
Francis
of
Assisi.
You
have
to
be
a
�eld
general
in
some
way.
And
yet
you
started
making
movies
when
you
were
really
young.
You
were
twenty-six
when
“Hard
Eight”
came
out,
twenty-
seven
for
“Boogie
Nights.”
How
did
you
know
you
could
do
it?
How
did
you
put
yourself
forward?
My
mother
likes
to
say
that
I
didn’t
start
directing
when
I
was
twenty-six
or
twenty-seven—that
I
started
directing
when
I
was
four
or �ve
years
old.
She
tells
these
stories
about
how
I
would
get
everybody
together
and
organize
these
shows.
I
loved
to
make �lms
as
soon
as
I
could.
I
was
lucky
enough
to
be
wanting
to
make �lms
when
it
became
much
easier
because
the
camcorder,
the
home-
movie
camera,
came
around.
Steven
Spielberg
was
the
shining
star,
but
he
was
working
in
Super
8,
so
you’re
actually
cutting
the �lm,
splicing
it
or
cementing
it
together.
I
had
this
device,
this
home-movie
camera.
It
was
huge
and
cumbersome,
but
you
could
immediately
see
the
results.
You
could
immediately
put
something
together.
You
could
learn
rapidly.
You
could
make
a
horrible
movie
one
day
then
not
a
bad
one
the
next
day
and
then
another
one
and
then
another
one.
You
were
able
to
keep
practicing.
I
was
so
young
when
I
made
my �rst �lm,
but
I
was
incredibly
self-conscious
and
prepared.
I
was
prepared
because
I
knew
I
was
the
youngest
person
on
the
8
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
set
and
I
didn’t
want
to
let
everybody
down.
There
were
a
lot
of
people
around
me
who’d
been
doing
it
for
ten, �fteen,
even
twenty
years.
I
really
didn’t
want
to
be
the
reason
why
we
slowed
down.
I’d
already
worked
as
a
P.A.
on
so
many
�lm
sets,
so
I
was
aware
of
what
made
a
good �lm
set
work
and
what
didn’t.
It
was
always
a
matter
of
communication.
I
was
the
person
who
was
there
helping
to
get
coffee,
knowing
that
no
one
knows
what’s
going
on.
Everybody
is
bumping
into
one
another.
A �lm
set
can
get
like
that.
I
could
see
examples
of
why
something
was
running
smoothly;
there’s
a
good
line
of
communication.
You
don’t
have
to
be
screaming.
Yes,
there’s
a
dictator,
but
it
can
be
a
benevolent
dictator.
It
doesn’t
require
this
kind
of
mythological,
screaming,
chaps-wearing,
bullhorn
thing.
It’s
just
about
organization
and
communication.
You
can
have
fun
doing
it
and
be
kind
and
get
it
done.
You
read
about Hitchcock,
who
had
everything
mapped
out,
storyboarded,
every
shot
prepared.
Meticulous.
The �lm
is
almost
pre-edited.
Then
there’s
someone
like Jean-Luc
Godard,
who’s
improvising,
writing
the
script
for
the
day
that
morning,
and
there
is
a
kind
of
haphazard,
or seemingly haphazard,
way
of
going
about
it.
Your �lms
always
have
a
voice.
I
rush
to
see
them
because
I
always
know
I’m
hearing
from
you
in
the
most
personal
way,
whether
the �lm
is
set
in
London
or
in
the
San
Fernando
Valley—stories
of
radically
different
kinds.
How
much
of
that
comes
out
of
the
writing?
Is
the
writing
the
most
crucial
element
of
the
creative
process
for
you?
It
all
begins
and
ends
with
the
writing.
That’s
an
exaggeration,
but
the
point
of
that
is
to
say
that,
if
the
writing
is
good,
you’ve
got
a
very
good
shot
at
making
a
good �lm—or
you’ve
got
a
good
shot
of
making
your
day.
You’ve
got
some
clarity
that
you’re
walking
into
the
situation
with.
And
the
reason
you
know
is
because
when
you
write
a
scene
that
doesn’t
work,
you
generally
spend
way
too
much
time
trying
to
do
it.
You
spend
too
much
time
reshooting
it,
rewriting
it,
trying
it
a
hundred
different
ways.
And
then
you
realize
this
thing
doesn’t
belong
in
the �lm.
9
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
I
love
writing.
It’s
the
most
important
part
for
me.
Because
if
it’s
good
and
it’s
happening,
I’m
that
much
more
comfortable
on
a
set
or
that
much
more
comfortable
waking
up
each
day,
going,
Great,
I’m
looking
forward
to
shooting
the
scene.
And
you
know
that
going
in?
Most
of
the
time,
you
know.
Sometimes
you
think,
This
is
the
greatest
scene
that
we
have
in
this
movie.
And
then
something
tells
you,
No,
you
don’t
need
this.
I
mean,
that’s
the
trick.
It’s
like,
after
this
many
years,
you’d
think
you’d
be
able
to
spot
it
quicker.
Actually,
this
time
I
had
some
scenes
that
I
wrote
that
just
were
not
working.
And
I
would
say
to
Alana
and
Cooper,
“What
if
you
didn’t
say
any
of
this
dumb
dialogue
that
I
wrote
and
you
just
walked
and
silently
looked
at
each
other?”
And
it
was
great.
We’d
have
this
magical
thing.
And
it
was
a
classic
example
of
too
much
dialogue—enough
with
the
writing!
Cooper
Hoffman
is
the
son
of
the
late
Philip
Seymour
Hoffman.
Alana is
Alana
Haim,
who
until
now
has
been
best
known
for HAIM,
her
band,
with
her
two
sisters,
Este
and
Danielle.
There’s
a
certain
audacity
in
picking
those
two
as
lead
actors
for
a
major �lm.
Until
now,
we
knew
Cooper
Hoffman
mainly
as
a
“son
of”
and
Alana
Haim
as
a
musician.
Why’d
you
choose
them?
I
swear
if
you
were
in
my
position,
the
question
would
be,
How
could
you not
choose
them?
I
happen
to
know
them.
I
knew
Alana
certainly
had
the
talent
and
the
competence
from
her
years
as
a
performer.
I
knew
Cooper
had
the
heart
and
the
soulfulness.
It
was
unclear
whether
he
could
really—you
can
never
know
if
someone’s
going
to
have
that
kind
of
talent
in
front
of
your
eyes.
Or
when
you
turn
on
a
movie
camera
and
they
become,
like,
Pee-wee
Herman
in
“Pee-wee’s
Big
Adventure”
when
he’s
staring
into
the
camera
or
mouthing
the
other
person’s
line.
I
mean,
it’s
always
possible—believe
me.
But
the
more
that
we
read
the
script
together
and
hung
out
together
and
really
investigated
10
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
this
as
a
real
possibility,
it
just
seemed
like
a
far
less
complicated
choice
than
you
might
imagine.
It
was
looking
for
two
authentic,
genuine
people
who
can’t
hide
their
emotions.
And
here
they
are
right
in
front
of
me,
and
they
want
to
learn,
and
they
want
to
try
really
hard,
and
they
don’t
want
to
let
me
down.
They
don’t
want
to
let
themselves
down.
How
could
we
not
do
this?
This
is
just
gonna
be,
at
its
best,
a
wonderful
experience
for
all
of
us.
So,
they
were
the
choices
from
the
start?
There
were
no
auditions?
There
was
no
audition
for
Alana’s
part.
That
was
what
I
had
set
my
mind
on.
.
.
.
You’d
done
music
videos
with
her.
Yeah,
many,
many.
I’ve
worked
with
her
and
her
sisters
for
a
number
of
years
now.
I
contacted
them
because
I
liked
the
music
and
I
offered
my
services.
And
I
have
a
collaboration
that
extends
beyond
the
music
videos.
I
love
them
as
a
family.
I
love
their
music.
And
so,
we’re
very
intertwined
that
way.
As
a
matter
of
fact,
the
experience
that
I’d
had
making
the
music
videos
really
informed
the
type
of �lm
that
I
wanted
“Licorice
Pizza”
to
be.
We
were
always
running
around
the
streets
of
the
Valley.
We
had
no
money.
We
had
no
time.
We
usually
had
about
ten
people
on
the
crew,
probably �ve
sometimes.
And
they
were
the
happiest
days
I’ve
had
shooting—so
immediate.
And
they’re
such
great
collaborators;
I
feed
off their
energy.
And
it
was
that
energy
that
was
getting
into
the
[“Licorice
Pizza”]
script.
There
was
a
traditional
casting
process
when
it
came
to
the
Gary
character,
the
one
that
Cooper
plays,
probably
because,
well,
it’s
just
how
you
do
it.
I
guess
I
was
sort
of
playing
by
the
numbers.
Maybe
there’s
a
kid
out
there
and
I
can �nd
him.
That
went
on
for
quite
a
long
time,
unsuccessfully.
I
mentioned
Cooper’s
name
to
Alana,
Danielle,
Este,
the
three
[Haim]
sisters.
They
talk
all
the
time,
11
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
these
sisters.
They’re
always
talking
all
over
one
another.
And
when
you
say
something
that
lands,
well,
they
all
stopped
talking
and
they
kind
of
looked
at
me
and
said,
“Maybe
that’s
a
good
idea.”
I
got
their
attention.
And
so
we
began
that
process,
in
a
way,
of
auditioning
Cooper.
How
did
they
know
him?
What
was
he
bringing
to
the
party?
They
know
him
because
I
know
him.
I’m
as
close
to
him
as
I
can
get
while
I
live
in
Los
Angeles
and
he
lives
in
New
York.
They
had
been
introduced
to
him
�ve
or
six
years
ago.
He
came
to
town
and
I
was
looking
after
him
and
I
had
to
go
off and
take
care
of
something.
So,
I
said,
“Babysit
him.
Hang
out
with
him
for
a
minute.”
And
they
did.
And
they
were
as
taken
by
him
as
everybody
is
that
meets
him,
this
incredibly
personable,
charming,
empathetic,
unique
person.
The
last
four
movies
prior
to
this,
you
worked
with
Daniel
Day-Lewis,
twice,
and
Joaquin
Phoenix,
twice—two
astonishing,
experienced
actors.
They
know
what
they’re
doing,
to
say
the
least.
Your
stars
here
are
both
superb,
but
they’re
relative
rookies.
How
does
that
change
the
way
you
work
with
them?
Well,
it’s
different
for
sure.
It’s
different
in
some
of
the
silliest,
most
basic
ways.
Somebody
that’s
been
doing
it
a
long
time
knows
how
to
pace
themselves
physically,
emotionally,
in
the
course
of
sixty-�ve
days.
It
would
have
been
very
natural—and
I
could
see
that
the
amount
of
nerves
and
concentration
and
energy
that
they
were
putting
into
this—that
they
could
have
burned
out
quite
easily.
I
had
to
take
them
through
each
step
of
the
process
and
give
them
enough
time
to
prepare.
I
said,
“You
have
to
learn
this
script
inside
and
out,
because
there
won’t
be
any
time
to
learn
the
script
while
we’re
in
the
middle
of
it.
It’ll
be
like
we’re
skiing
down
a
mountain
at
a
hundred
miles
an
hour.”
12
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
You
get
to
the
basic
things,
like,
especially
with
Cooper—he’s
sixteen,
seventeen
years
old.
Have
you
eaten
breakfast?
Have
you
had
a
snack?
Are
you
tired?
You
really
do
have
to
take
care
of
them
in
that
way.
Did
you
have
to
bring
a
juice
box
to
the
set?
Exactly!
Here’s
a
juice
box
and
some
string
cheese!
But
it
was
much
more
about
the
pragmatic
pieces
of
what
it
means
to
go
to
work
each
day
over
a
period
of
time.
The
emotional
parts,
the
words
and
the
characters
that
they
were
playing,
that
was
there.
It
was
clear
to
them.
One
of
the
most
beautiful
things
to
watch
was
the
difference
between
day
one
and
day
three,
the
difference
between
[day]
three
and
day �ve.
You
worked
with
the
late
Philip
Seymour
Hoffman,
Cooper’s
father.
I
hesitate
to
ask
this
question
because
it
might
be
somehow
off or
vulgar,
but
do
they
resemble
each
other
in
any
way?
Both
as
people
and
as
artists,
as
actors.
There’s
a
physical
resemblance,
sure.
But
what
I
think
is
nice
is
that
Cooper
is
really
his
own
person.
He’s
got
his
mom’s
eyes
and
his
mom’s
smile.
And
from
time
to
time
he
turns
his
head
and
he
looks
a
lot
like
his
dad.
But
working
with
Phil
was
like
working
with
Daniel
or
Joaquin.
They
had
been
doing
it
for
so
long
that
they
had �gured
out
the
business
of
acting
and
movies.
His
character
is
an
incredible,
lovable
schemer.
And
you
have
that
in
other
�lms
of
yours—charismatic,
morally
complicated
strivers
like
William
H.
Macy
or
Tom
Cruise
in
“Magnolia,”
Daniel
Day-Lewis
in
“There
Will
Be
Blood”
or
“Phantom
Thread.”
What
draws
you
to
characters
like
that,
these
schemer
types?
It’s
funny.
It
isn’t
until
you �nish
writing
the
movie,
making
the
movie,
and
come
out
to
promote
it
when
it
gets
framed
like
that.
And
you
go,
I
am?
13
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
I
don’t
think
I
know.
I’m
not
just
being
silly.
I
think
it’s
just
a
natural
gravity
toward
characters
who,
because
of
their
nature,
will
supply
good
dramatic
situations,
preferably
comedic
situations
as
well.
What’s
nice
about
Gary’s
ambition
is
that
it’s
the
ambition
of
a
teen-ager,
which
is
very,
very
large
but
only
lasts
about �fteen
or
twenty
minutes.
So,
that’s
ripe
for
good
dramatic
and
comedic
possibilities.
I
can’t
imagine
an
Oscar
ceremony
this
coming
year
without
seeing
Alana
Haim
as
a
central �gure
in
it.
Her
performance
is
a
knockout,
and,
again,
she’s
doing
it
the �rst
time
out
of
the
box.
Yes,
she’s
a
performer,
a
musician.
She’s
been
onstage
a
million
times.
But
how
does
this
happen?
I
think
the
answer
is
that
some
people
have
a
gift.
Daniel
Day-Lewis
has
a
gift.
Joaquin
Phoenix
has
a
gift.
Phil
had
a
gift.
Some
people
can
make
words
explode
out
of
their
mouths
on
a
movie
screen
so
that
it
appears
that
they
have
just
been
formulated
in
their
mind
and
their
heart.
And
they
can
do
it
all
while
they’re
walking
and
talking,
you
know?
It’s,
like, weird.
I’m
drawn
to
people
who
can
do
it
well,
because
it’s
a
certain
type
of
magic
trick.
And
then
you
say,
Well,
wait.
Is
it
magic?
Or
is
it
just
this
full-blown
gift
that
some
people
can
do
it?
I
was
very
concerned
because
there’s
a
long
history
of
�lm
directors
who
thought
they
were
seeing
some
brilliant
performance
in
front
of
their
eyes
when,
in
fact,
they
were,
like,
blinded
by
some
light
or
something
and
missing
some
crucial
component.
I
would
constantly
check
in
with
the
guys
that
I
was
working
with
around
the
camera.
I’m
like,
“Are
you
seeing
what
I’m
seeing?
I
knew
she’d
be
good,
but
she’s
just,
like,
she’s
so
unpredictable
and
she’s
so
scary,
but
you
can
wrap
your
arms
around
her.
She’s,
like,
all
of
these
things
at
once.”
You
aren’t
making
Marvel �lms,
you’re
not
making
“The
Fast
and
the
Furious”
franchise �lms;
on
the
other
hand,
you
aren’t
making
tiny-budget
14
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
indie
movies,
either.
You’re
making �lms
for
adults
on
a
midsize
budget.
Is
Hollywood
treating
you
well?
How
are
you
looking
at
the
landscape
of
the
business
these
days?
Boy,
it
warms
my
heart
to
be
able
to
tell
you
that
I
feel
happier
than
ever
working
in
this
business.
I’ve
got
my
own
little
corner
of
the
sandbox
and
am
working
with
people
that
I
really
admire,
like
at
M-G-M.
I’m
incredibly
happy
right
now.
But
that’s
me.
There’s
no
end
to
the
kind
of
sky-is-falling
questions
that
always
surround �lms,
and
what’s
going
to
happen.
Obviously
it’s
gotten
even
more
complicated
with
streaming
and
the
sort
of
overabundance
of
superhero
movies.
Most
of
the
stuff I
don’t
take
too
seriously.
I
mean,
it
seems
that
there
is
a
bit
of
a
preoccupation
with
superhero �lms.
I
like
them.
It
seems
to
be
something
that’s
popular
these
days
to
sort
of
wonder
if
they’ve
ruined
movies
and
all
this
kind
of
stuff.
I
just
don’t
feel
that
way.
I
mean,
look,
we’re
all
nervous
about
people
getting
back
to
the
theatre,
but
you
know
what’s
going
to
get
them
back
in
movie
theatres?
“Spider-Man.”
So
let’s
be
happy
about
that.
I
saw
movies
of
that
kind
when
I
was
a
kid
and
still
do,
but
I
wonder,
if
you
were
a
twenty-seven-year-old
making
your �rst �lms
now,
would
you
be
in
better
shape
in
this
environment?
The environment
of
Net�ix
and
streaming
and
all
the
rest,
or
the
environment
you
grew
up
in?
That’s
a
great
question.
And
I’ve
thought
about
it
a
little
bit
lately.
There’s
a
lot
of
money
out
there
right
now
for
people
to
make
movies.
When
I
started
making �lms,
there
was
a
lot
of
money
out
there
for
a
window
of
time,
and
it
was
home-video
money.
If
you
could
make
a
movie
for,
let’s
say,
a
million
and
a
half,
two
million
dollars,
keep
it
under
three,
and
you
had
a
couple
of
genre
elements,
there
was
the
home-video
component
to
making
a �lm
that
needed
to
be
fed.
Which
is
essentially
the
same
as
streaming—call
it
home
video,
15
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
VHS,
whatever
you
want
to
call
it.
It’s
something
that
gets
into
your
house
and
gives
you
entertainment,
right?
So
the
playing �eld
hasn’t
changed
that
drastically,
you
know?
There’s
some
money
out
there.
Now
it’s
hard
to �nd
what
you’re
looking
for.
Because
there’s
so
much
stuff.
I
am
one
of
those
people
who
spends
an
hour
looking
at
the
menu
and
then
I’m
exhausted.
And
you
watch
the
Dodgers
instead.
Right.
I
go
watch
the
Dodgers.
Like,
I
knew
that
there
were
three
titles
that
had
been
recommended
to
me,
let’s
say
by
a
critic
that
I
respect,
and
I’ll
think,
I
should
really
see
that.
But
by
the
time
I
get
around
to
it,
I
get
so
lost
in
the
menu,
I’m
frustrated
and
I
say,
Screw
it.
But
it
requires
a
viewer’s
participation
to
get
up
off the
couch
and
go
search
these
things
out.
I
think
the
audience
has
become
quite
lazy
as
well.
They’re
shovelling
tons
and
tons
of
shit
out
at
us
all
the
time,
so
you
don’t
know
where
to
look.
But,
then
again,
audiences
are
now
getting
lazy.
They’re
saying,
“I
don’t
know
when
it’s
important
for
me
to
get
up
off the
couch—you
guys
have
made
it
impossible
for
me
to �gure
out.”
I
know
there
are
probably
at
least
ten
movies
that
I
haven’t
seen
this
year
that
I
want
to
see.
The
fall
movies
come
around
and
I
simply
haven’t
found
the
time
or
I
simply
haven’t
made
as
good
an
effort
as
I
could
have.
I
dedicated
six
hours
to
Peter
Jackson’s
“Get
Back”
this
weekend,
and
I
was
thankful
for
that.
It’s
incredible.
And
I’ve
still
got
two
more,
three
more,
hours
to
go.
Are
you
interested
at
all
in
making
things
for
television?
I
wouldn’t
say
no,
but
I
wouldn’t
know
where
to
begin.
I
had
this
conversation
with
Quentin
[Tarantino]:
I
think
neither
one
of
us
has
a
problem
with
writing
material.
Sometimes
the
problem
can
be
cutting
material,
you
know?
Sometimes
you’re
in
the
middle
of
writing
something
and
you
have
way
more
16
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
than
you
need
and
you
go,
Well,
maybe
this
should
be
a
TV
show,
you
know?
That’s
not
the
solution.
The
solution
is
not
to
just
use
a
lot
of
B-material
and
make
a
longer-form
thing.
The
solution
would
be
cut
down,
get
to
your
good
material,
tell
your
story
properly
and
make
a �lm.
So,
I’ve
never
thought
about
it
in
a
very
serious
way.
I
don’t
watch
a
lot
of
it,
so
I
don’t
know
exactly
how
it
works.
The
structure
is
something
I’d
have
to
learn,
you
know.
I
don’t
mean
to
sound
like
an
idiot.
Of
course
I’ve
seen
episodic
television,
but
there’s
a
rhythm
to
that
writing
and
a
structuring
of
how
you
pull
a
story
over
multiple
episodes,
which
at
this
point
would
be
a
huge
learning
curve.
The
people
who
do
it,
do
it
incredibly
well.
I
think
I’d
feel
a
little
bit
like
a
tourist
trying
to
step
into
that.
I
can’t
help
asking
you,
what
is
the
last
movie
that
you’ve
seen
that
you
adored?
Oh,
my
God.
You’re
putting
me
on
the
spot.
I’ve
seen
so
many
things.
What
was
the
last
movie?
I
just �nally
saw
“The
French
Dispatch,”
which
I
really
liked.
I
have
one
for
you!
I
can’t
believe
this.
I
found
a
movie
called
“The
Good
Fairy,”
a
Margaret
Sullavan
movie
that
Preston
Sturges
wrote.
[A
1935
romantic
comedy,
directed
by
William
Wyler.]
As
much
as
I
love
doing
this
work
and
I
love
movies,
I’d
never
even
heard
of
it
until
a
couple
of
weeks
ago.
Those
are
great
recommendations.
I
hope
you’ll
be
glad
to
know
that
Richard
Brody’s top
movies
of
the
year
just
came
out
and
your �lm
and
“The
French
Dispatch”
were
the
top
two.
I
just
read
Richard’s
review
of
our �lm
and
I’m
still
sort
of
processing
it
all.
I’ve
had
good
reviews
in
my
day,
but
this
one
might
take
the
cake
for
how,
what
the
�lm
means
to
me
and
how
he
wrote
about
it.
An
old
cold
black
heart
like
mine
kind
of
warmed
up
a
little
bit.
It’s
pretty
great.
17
of
22
4/30/22,
14:48
Paul
Thomas
Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
I
just �nished
reading
the
dialogue
between Alfred
Hitchcock
and
François
Truffaut,
a
book-length
interview,
in
which
Truffaut
was
asking
the
questions
of
Hitchcock.
Is
there
a �lmmaker
so
central
to
you
that
you’d
want
to
have
that dialogue?
Did
you
ever
see
the
Kevin
Brownlow
documentary
called
“Hollywood”?
It
was
made
in
[1980]
and
is
a
multipart
series
on
the
silent
era.
And
what’s
amazing
about
it
is
that,
in
1980,
most
of
those
people
were
still
alive.
He �lmed
everyone
from �lm
directors
to
stuntmen
and
movie
stars,
reminiscing
about
the
beginning,
the
real
beginning,
like,
1917.
I
was
reading
[the
cinematographer]
Billy
Bitzer’s
autobiography
recently;
he’s
talking
about
coming
out
from
New
York
with
D.
W.
Griffith
and
getting
started.
That
kind
of
stuff has
really
been
getting
me
emotional.
I
knew
a
little
bit
about
it,
but
you
realize
that
you
could
spend
your
whole
life
dedicated
to
it
and
still
not
know
much
of
anything.
I
think
back
to
any
of
those
silent-movie-era
�lmmakers,
whether
it’s
D.
W.
Griffith
or
Raoul
Walsh;
even
Howard
Hawks
started
in
silent �lms.
So
talking
with
anybody
who
was
on
the
cusp,
between
the
silents
and
sound,
would
be
interesting.
I’d
love
to
hear
those
stories,
have
those
conversations.
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19
of
22
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Thomas
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on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
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4/30/22,
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Paul
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Anderson
on
What
Makes
a
Movie
Great
|
The...
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-intervi...
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Paul
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|
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